Eulogy for Mom: 8 Examples to Copy

Good morning. I'm Karen, Dorothy's oldest daughter.

My mother ended every phone call the same way: "Did you eat?" It did not matter if you were nine or fifty-nine, if you had called about a job, a baby or a broken heart. Before she hung up, she needed to know you had eaten.

It took me years to understand that "Did you eat?" meant "I love you, I worry about you, and I'm here."

Mom, we ate. We are going to be okay. And every time I ask my own kids that question, you'll be right there with me.

Hi, everyone. I'm Jessica, Linda's daughter.

My mom worked thirty years as a nurse, and she brought the job home with her in the best way. She could take your temperature with the back of her hand, find the splinter nobody else could see, and tell from your voice on the phone whether you were really fine.

When I had my first baby, she came to stay for two weeks. She cooked, she did laundry, she took the night feedings so I could sleep, and on the last day she sat on the edge of my bed and said, "You're going to be a good mother. You already are." I have held on to that sentence on every hard day since.

She was the strongest woman I have ever known, and the gentlest. I did not know until I was grown that you could be both.

Mom, you took care of everyone. Rest now. It's our turn to take care of each other.

Good afternoon. I'm David, Margaret's son.

My mom was five foot one, and she was the most intimidating person in any room. Teachers, coaches and at least one car salesman learned that the hard way. She was not loud. She just looked at you until you did the right thing.

She raised three boys in a small house with one bathroom, and somehow she was never the one who ran out of patience. She came to every game, sat in the same spot on the bleachers, and never yelled at a referee, though she would tell you later exactly what she thought of him.

The last time I visited, she held my face in her hands like I was still eight years old and said, "I'm proud of the man you turned out to be."

Mom, everything decent about that man came from you. Thank you.

Hello, everyone. I'm Amy, the middle child, which Mom told me meant I was the peacemaker. She also told my brother he was the responsible one and my sister she was the creative one. We compared notes last night. She told all three of us we were her favorite.

Mom had rules. Shoes off at the door. Thank-you notes within the week. Never, ever leave the house without lipstick, "in case you meet someone important." I don't think she ever met that person, but she was always ready.

She could not tell a joke to save her life, she sang along to the radio with the wrong words every time, and she believed every problem could be solved with a casserole and a long walk.

And she was right more often than any of us liked to admit.

Mom, I'm wearing lipstick today. Just in case.

Good morning. My name is Angela, and Mother Evelyn was my mother and my first teacher in the faith.

My mother prayed about everything: the rent, the weather, our report cards and the neighbor's sick dog. She kept a list of names on the refrigerator, and she prayed through it every morning before any of us were awake. After she died, we found that list. Every one of our names was on it, and so were the names of half the people in this church.

She raised five children on a factory wage and more faith than money, and she never once let us believe we were poor. She would say, "God has never been late, not one time."

Mama, you ran your race and you finished it. We will see you in the morning.

Hi. I'm Marcus. For most of my life, it was just Mom and me.

She worked two jobs for years: a bank during the day and a grocery store at night. I didn't understand until I was older how tired she must have been, because she never let me see it. She still made it to every parent-teacher conference, and she still checked my homework at the kitchen table at eleven o'clock at night.

We did not have much, but she made every birthday feel like a holiday, and she made sure I always knew one thing: "You are not a burden. You are the reason."

She was my mother, my father, my coach and my biggest fan.

Mom, I hope you knew you were the reason for everything good I have done. I'll keep making you proud.

Good morning. I'm Susan, Helen's daughter.

For the last six years, Alzheimer's took my mother from us a little at a time. There were days she did not know my name. But I want to tell you what it never took.

It never took her manners: she thanked every nurse, every time. It never took her love of music: she could sing every word of the hymns she learned as a girl, long after she had forgotten what year it was. And it never took the way she reached for my hand.

The mother I want you to remember is the one who taught third grade for thirty-two years, who planted tomatoes every spring, and who laughed so hard at her own jokes she could not finish them.

Mom, you are free of it now. I hope you are singing.

On behalf of my father, my sisters and our whole family, thank you for being here to pray for my mother, Rose.

Mom's faith was quiet and practical. She taught religious education in this parish for twenty years, brought meals to every new mother on her street, and never missed a Sunday, even the year she broke her hip.

She taught us to pray the rosary in the car, to forgive before the sun went down, and to always set an extra place at the table in case someone needed it.

We give thanks to God for her life, for her love for our father, and for the example she gave us. Mom, may the angels lead you into paradise. We love you.